


Story Time

by gretaamyk



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), F/M, Spencer Reid imagine, bau, criminal minds imagine, spencer reid x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gretaamyk/pseuds/gretaamyk
Summary: Y/n feels a little neglected by her boyfriend and his constant working so she takes matters into her own hands.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Kudos: 71





	Story Time

I always loved the atmosphere to Spencer’s apartment. It was mature and scholarly, fitting for the Doctor who owned it. It was a shocking juxtaposition to the relationships I maintained in college. Back then all I knew was grungy dorm rooms and college boys who tasted like alcohol, which also fit perfectly for each other.

It had low lighting and sophisticated artwork on the walls. A lovely vintage record player sat by the wall under his plaques and degrees, along with a collection of music under it. Of course, he always preferred Mozart but I’ve slowly started to introduce him by more recent music. And by “Recent”, I mean the 70’s at the absolute latest. He was a man of refined taste, and who was I to judge him for that? But relationships were all about compromise. And his music choice just so happened to bring back back traumatic memories of my middle school violin lessons. So we decided to incorporate some Queen and David Bowie as well.

I scanned through the collection we had assembled with my fingers running over the labels as I read. Finally I settled on an old Paul Anka record I got from my grandmother. Honestly, I didn’t know it was salvageable until a few weeks ago, and since then I haven’t been able to stop playing it. I pushed it into the player and put the needle down onto my favorite track. The song echoed through the area of his large apartment. I smiled gently to myself as I stood up, swaying gently along to the sounds coming from the machine. Listening to the gentle words of love and lust, I couldn’t help but connect it to my own experience.

Spencer and I haven’t had sex in over two weeks. That may not seem like that long, but it feels like i’m in the parched desert, searching for an oasis. Which is ironic, because everything that he does makes me so wet. I would see him lick his fingers before turning a page, and I would think, God, do I wish I was that copy of… The Magical Mathematics of Quantum Physics. Then I would see him fidgeting with the belt synched around his waist and imagined how it would go if he were to pull it off and bind my hands with it, or maybe how the leather would feel whipped against my skin. Then the vicious cycle continues.

Then, an idea popped into my head. If he didn’t want to sleep with me, I would be off of him before he could say the word. But I figured it was worth a shot. I looked across the room to see Spencer hunched over his desk, lost in an old book under the glow of the vintage table lamp he found at a thrift store. Lots of his furniture he got there, which only added to the worn in yet experienced aesthetic to his place.

Spencer was an academic and he always loved to learn. He felt most fulfilled when he was expanding his mind and achieving new accomplishments at work. I was so incredibly proud of him, and everything he managed to accomplish at such a young age. But, It could be a little disheartening to be ignored for a book on physics or homework he had to grade. Or even worse, ignored for a work file filled with serial killers and cadavers.

“Baby?” I asked softly, he hummed in response, “do you wanna dance with me?”

“Um,” He coughed, and that was all I really needed to hear. “Not right now, I just got to a good part.”

This was a minor setback, but I had a back up plan.

“Okay. I’m going to go get my PJ’s on then.” I sung, smiling as my plan was set into motion.

“Okay.” He said, already preoccupied with his book again.

I went into our bedroom and slid off my jeans and heavy fall sweater, and then threw them in the laundry bin because I know how he loves tidiness. I slid on a lacy black negligee that I’ve never worn before, and took down my hair, letting it fall down onto my shoulders in waves. I stepped back into the living room and turned down the volume on the record player just a little bit.

“Spencer?” I called, and he hummed again in response, just like he did minutes before. “Do you think that I could sit in your lap and you can read me your book?”

He finally looked up from his book and he did a double take when he saw the things I was wearing, as well as the things I was not wearing underneath it. “Wh-while you wear that?” He sputtered out.

“Well, I told you I was changing.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think- I mean, you want me to… um… yes. I can do that.” He finally gave a solid response.

“Good.” I said with a gentle smile. I approached his desk with a certain confidence that only comes with being looked at the way Spencer just looked at me. His eyes followed me as I approached him and I could tell that he was getting more nervous by the second. I liked that I could make him nervous as easily as he did me. He was a smart boy, he could figure out what I was planning on doing. But, he didn’t seem to know how to react. So instead he tried not to react at all. He failed miserably.

I stepped in between his legs and sat down on his thigh facing him. I felt him tense up under me. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. His large hand found the small of my back and rubbed up and down the length of my spine and leaving tingles in his wake. I was in control for the time being, but based on this touch alone, he didn’t plan on that lasting long. At least if this went where he thought it was going.

“Okay,” he started, adjusting his hips under me and clearing his throat before he spoke again. He has read to me before in the past, my favorite being either Lolita or A Hero of Our Time in its original Russian. Now, I didn’t speak Russian, but hearing him speak the language as well as he could his own was a memorable experience for my heart, my brain, and my ovaries alike. “The sun was gone. Now the first stars were shining and the moon had brightened the fields of grass and wheat. Still the Illustrated Man’s pictures glowed like charcoals in the half light, like scattered rubies and emeralds, with Rouault colors and Picasso colors and the long, pressed-out El Greco bodies.”

His voice was strong as sure, like this was a lecture he’s given thousands of times at Georgetown. But this was one of his favorite books of all time, The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. With that eidetic memory of his, I knew for a fact that he could read this book with his eyes closed, or even without a book in his hands at all.

As he quickly made his way through the pages of the story, I gradually began to rock my hips back and forth against his thigh, slowly building up friction against my core. Spencer stopped reading, “What are you doing?” He stammered out, bringing a satisfied smirk to my face and pink heat to his.

“Keep going.” I mumbled against his neck, speeding up the rate of the grinding of my hips. My arms snuck from around his neck to down his chest and around his back. I let out a gentle moan as I felt the stimulation on my clit. My eyes were closed but I could feel his on me. He coughed and struggled to bring his attention back to the pages in front of him.

“Um, the pictures were moving, each in its turn, for a brief mi-minute or two… There in the moon… the moonlight, with the tiny tinkling thoughts and the distant sea voices, it seemed each little drama was en-enacted.” The tone of his voice drifted to near silence as he approached the end of his sentence. He cleared his throat again, and I could almost see the big cogs turning in his brain. He was surely calculating something. I don’t know what it was, but if it had anything to do with me or the throbbing cock I felt through the thin fabric of his slacks, then I encouraged him to test his theory full heartedly.

Then I felt his leg begin to bounce under me, making me moan at the desperate stimulation, and his voice grew sure again as he read. I saw a smirk on his face and the timbre of his words feigned innocence but lewdness sunk through nonetheless.

“Spenc-” I moaned and he stopped the movement of his leg and covered my mouth with his hands. I gasped, though it was muffled by his palm.

“Not a fucking word.” he growled lowly into my ears, making me feel butterflies deep down inside me. “You wanted me to read to you, so you are going to stay quiet until I finish the chapter. Understand?”

I almost responded yes sir, but I kept quiet and nodded urgently. “Good girl.” he praised, but he didn’t move his hand from my mouth. His two of his long fingers slipped in my mouth and pressed down on my tongue. Then, after flipping the page again, his other hand reached in between my thighs, nothing separating us but the lacy black panties I put in just for him.

He continued to read the passage, and though there wasn’t much left in the chapter, it felt like he was reading me the entirety of an encyclopedia since I couldn’t react to the way he touched me. His fingers moved the drenched fabric to the side, and plunged deep into my heat without any warning.

I choked on a whimper that he forbade to escape my mouth with his fingers standing guard there. My eyes squeezed shut as he read. He read so authoritatively that by sound alone, you might have assumed that he was giving a seminar to an auditorium full of people.

Spencer added another finger inside of me, and he increased their speed. He pumped in and out of me and moved his fingers in a come hither motion, his thumb rapidly circled around my clit.

I bit down on the fingers in my mouth to keep from crying out in pleasure. I rapidly reached my orgasm, which had arrived rather quickly after being deprived from his appetitive touch for so long. I released onto his fingers with a choked sob, and he replaced hands with the one in my lap, making me suck my own juices off his fingers.

I didn’t even notice that he stopped reading until I was flipped and bent over across his snaky desk. I gasped as his actions forced the breath out of my lungs. He pinned my hands tightly behind my back, like he was arresting me.

“Are you arresting me, Agent?” I quipped slickly, “You’re gonna have to call my lawyer.”

“Did I say you can fucking talk?” He scolded, ripping his tie of his neck and tying my hands together. Then he slid my thong down my legs and I stepped out of them. “Since you wanted to act like a desperate fucking whore, I’m going to fuck you like one. You don’t speak unless spoken to, you don’t cum unless invited, do you understand me?” He spoke authoritatively, undoing the buckle of his belt and unzipping his pants.

“Yes, Daddy, I understand.”

“Good. Now what do you want Daddy to do to you, little girl?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Like?” he coerced, tighting the fabric restraints around my wrists. I tried to see his cock spring free in my peripherals as I heard him slide his clothing down his thighs.

“I want you to fuck me li-like the desperate whore I am.” He shoved my panties into my mouth and I groaned into the fabric, tasting myself on it.

He lined up against my sopping entrance, running himself up and down, before slamming his member all the way into me. I cried out loudly, but it was muffled by the fabric he stuffed into my mouth, like an apple into a roasted pig’s. His fingers dug into my hips so hard that I was positive there would be bruises there tomorrow.

Spencer pounded into me rhythmically, and with such power that the desk was shaking. His pens and décor fell off the table as it banged violently into the wall.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby girl,” he moaned raspy as his head fell back in complete, unmitigated ecstasy. “So, so fucking wet. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I mumbled out, struggling to keep my eyes opened. He removed the panties from my mouth as a reward.

“Mmm, good girl.” He moaned his praises and I felt both my heart and my pussy flutter. I felt all of him inside me, stretching my walls out. I felt him in my chest as he pounded into me, and my legs started to tremble. My pussy clenched around his cock and he swore under his breath.

He was losing it slowly but surely. He was a mess of desperate curses and praises, and his cock twitching inside me was a dead giveaway. I wiggled my ass against him and his hands tightened their grip on my hips, stabilizing my teasing movements. Then, one of his hands reached around to my clit and moved his fingers in rapid circles.

I cried out in pleasure and my toes curled into the carpet below me. I had to bite my tongue from screaming his name as to not brake the rules he commanded to me prior to our venereal actions. I was reaching my peak, but he wouldn’t allow me to climax without his permission, yet I couldn’t ask or else that would disobey his other command. So instead, I just whined and moaned and hoped to god that he would help me with my needs.

“You ready to come, dirty girl?” He asked delicately, his body still slamming into mine so hard that the impact stung.

“Y-yes, Sir, I am.”

“Then come for me.” He growled and immediately I felt the knot in my belly aching from build up immediately start unwinding as reaches my release. I was writhing beneath him, a mess of desperate pleads and cries. The way I was tied up, I resembled an animal who had been captured by hunters. He was the hunter, and I was the pray, and he was never planning on letting me think otherwise.

And then, after a couple more sloppy thrusts, he pulled his cock out of me and used his hand to finish himself all over my ass and lower back. I felt his warm seed rain down on me as he moaned from the pleasure of his own hand.

I wanted so desperately to see his face but in my restrained state I could only see so much. But I could feel him gently fall on top of me, pressing delicate kisses to my back and shoulders moving his hands against my body so amiably that I could have started crying. We caught our breath and came down from our highs, and he quickly undid his tie around my wrists. I stretched out my arms, taking advantage of the mobility in them I missed during our activity. I didn’t think that the necktie would be able to get that tight, but the marks appearing in the restraints place told me otherwise

“God, I fucking love story time,” I said with a laugh, looking down at my bruising wrists. I turned around to see him redoing his belt. He left the room for a minute, but he quickly came back with a warm, wet rag and some lavender scented lotion. He wiped me down from all of the DNA he left on my skin, and then he rubbed the lotion delicately into my aching wrists. I just watched him as he did it, with the ghost of a smile twitching across my face. When he finished and put down the two objects, he looked at me shyly like a puppy I had scolded. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Spencer, are you o-” He hugged me tightly. “-kay”

This confused me, but I accepted the affection anyway. I wrapped my arms tightly around the man who normally towered over me. His face buried into my neck, and my fingers found their way into his errant curls.

“I haven’t touched you in so long… and I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why your upset?” I couldn’t help but laugh, “Spencer, that isn’t something you have to apologize for.”

“But you’ve asked me, and I told you no. I’ve been so stressed out lately and I haven’t been giving you what you deserve and I-”

“Shh,” I pressed my finger to his lips, “this is silly. I think it’s adorable that you care this much. But,  
Spencer, you don’t have to touch me when you don’t want to.”

He snuggled into me even further, like he was trying to absorb into me, “You’re not upset?”

“No, I’m not,” I laughed lightly, my breath moving his hair like a breeze blowing through grass. I rubbed his back lightly in patterns and he sighed into my shoulder, “And even if I was, I wouldn’t remember after that. Jesus, Spencer, you fucked me into next month.”

“They don’t call me The Tardis for nothing.” He stood up and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with my hand.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” I joked back, “I am not gonna call you that.”

“Even if it means I’ll do that again?” He questioned me, raising his eyebrows.

I sighed and pet his fluffy hair like a dog, “Very good point, Spence… If you’ll do that again, I’d call you the thinga-ma-jigger from Dr Seuss if that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I like to hear” he said with a chuckle, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards our bedroom to go to to sleep, “And y/n?” I hummed in response, and he bowed himself as we walked speak lowly into my ear, “I love story time too.”


End file.
